We Have Committed The Golden Rule To

Three Were The Fates. Poverty That Chains; Gray Drudgery That Grinds The Hope Away, And Gaping Ignorance That Starves The Soul.

Lincoln, The Man Of The People

Sorrows Come To Stretch Out Places In The Heart For Joy.

He Fed His Spirit With The Bread Of Books

Bowed By The Weight Of Centuries He Leans Upon His Hoe And Gazes On The Ground, The Emptiness Of Ages In His Face, And On His Back The Burden Of The World.